


Anime isn't a Cartoon You Uncultured Swine

by Kyzer



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: A wild fucking ride lemme tell you, Ahegao, Also VERY kinky., Amateur dirty talking tbh, Anal Sex, Bottom tord, Clumsy Sex, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Excessive Cursing, Hentai, Hoo Boy., Humour, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Tom, Tord is loud as heck, Tord knows what he wants and how to get it, degrading, switch POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyzer/pseuds/Kyzer
Summary: The End never happened but Tord came back and is sharing a room with Tom. He blasts hentai every night and Tom's going to blast his ass next.(The fic is less crack than the summary I swear. Please read the tags and notes)





	1. Shut the Fuck Off

**Author's Note:**

> HI THERE. The first title for this was actually "AhegaOh My God" because I wanted to try writing a kink that I'm not really into? But it didn't work out very well because the main kink of this fic turned out to NOT be ahegao and instead it just became a mess.
> 
> The first chapter is kinda like an introductory chapter cause I'm physically incapable of writing anything that doesnt have at least a semblance of plot. All the NASTY shit (it's 3k+ words of pure smut) is in the second chapter so you can skip right to it.
> 
> Please take note that Tord does kind of manipulate things a bit to get his way so if you count that as non consent I'm so sorry

"Can you shut that thing off?"

Tom had to pause tuning his baby darling Susan because his _beloved_ roommate was blasting hentai. Again. He was okay with it the first few weeks because honestly Tom wasn't even in his (re: their) room very often but enough was enough! Sometimes Tord would just stare at the screen blankly. He wouldn't even wank! What was the point of putting on porn if you didn't jack off, the _plot_?! Tom was very much certain the Norski only played that gross shit to piss Tom off and God damn it, it worked.

 

The infuriating man in question simply rotated his head slowly to face Tom with an expression that defined the word 'bored'. He raised a hand slowly and pressed the spacebar. Immediately, the "ahn ahn sugoi big diccku" was cut off and the room plunged into silence. Until Tord decided to break it with his dumb fucking accent that is.

 

"The door's right there, Thomas," he gestured vaguely to the door and for whatever reason, the full name just made Tom more angry. He set Susan down and uncrossed his legs from under him to dangle them off the edge of his bed in case he needed to get up quickly to smack a bitch. A very specific bitch that was sitting in his bed across the room.

 

"Why do _I_ have to leave _my_ room when _you're_ the one blasting shitty cartoon porn?"

 

"First of all, it's not a cartoon--,"

 

"No one gives a shit."

 

"Second, it's both our rooms now, remember? If you want to play the 'I was Here First' game then you should remember it was my room first. So I was, in fact, here first," Tord argued, and the fact that it made so much sense was revolting.

 

"You should have just stayed out, honestly."

 

"And you should have moved out. See where this conversation is going?" Fuck! Did he disappear for years just to take Advanced Level Jackass or something in Norway?! To make matters worse, he simply turned his head back to the screen and resumed the video, completely dismissing Tom in favour of decorating the room with plastic moans and uncomfortable squelching noises.

 

Tom was just about to walk over there and smash that Godforsaken laptop himself when he had a better idea. Snickering, he leaned back into his bed, getting himself comfortable before pulling out his phone. While he adjusted the media volume, he could see from his peripheral that Tord was suspiciously glancing at him, expecting something to happen. And it did.

 

A cheery tune accompanied the fake whore moans and at the lyrics "Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows," Tord slammed his laptop shut and swung his legs over his bed to stand menacingly at the edge of Tom's bed. "Shut it off."

 

Tom barked out a mocking laugh and a poor imitation of a Norwegian accent, "There's the door."

 

It was either that or the continuation of the song that made Tord pounce onto an unsuspecting Tom, hellbent on grabbing the phone. With an undignified yelp, Tom scrabbled back, holding the phone just out of Tord's reach. Muttered "get off"s and "fuck you"s were exchanged as Tord literally started to climb the man under him, zeroing in on the offending object. Then Tom started to realise he was stuck in a predicament. Tord was already at his forearm, and just a little more he'd reach the phone.

 

Filled with the drive to  _not_ let Tord win at any cost, Tom threw his phone across the room. It smashed against the wall and the music cut off as the battery was ejected. They both were frozen in place, staring at the pathetic object on the floor for a hot minute before Tom said, "That's your fault."

 

Tord turned back around and sneered at the guy under him, now that he had the extra leverage. "Don't blame your stupidity on me, Witness." From this position, he could see how Tom was a bit sunken into the pillows, hair in disarray and cheeks a bit flushed from the little tussle they had. His shoulders were pulled up since he himself was bodily dragged down. Some of his hood was covering his mouth and if Tord trailed his eyes down, he'd see a sliver of skin exposed from how the blue hood was riding up.

 

"The fuck you starin' at? Get off me." Charming.

 

Instead of getting off of Tom, Tord started a conversation, as if it was the most natural thing to do in that situation. "You know, as a person with superior taste, don't you agree it is my duty to educate you?" He ignored the little "what the fuck?" as he slid off and marched to his own bed.

 

He picked up his laptop and unlocked it. As he waited for the loading screen to finish, Tom had adjusted his position on the bed, pulling his hoodie down and sitting properly to glare at Tord.

 

The man in question plopped his ass down beside Tom and before the index finger made contact with the space bar, Tom said, "No."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"I said no. We are  _not_ watching your shitty cartoon porn on my bed."

 

"It's not a cart--"

 

"It doesn't  _matter_!"

 

"But fine, if you're so adamant against it, we can watch on _my_ bed," Tord compromised.

 

"That's not the issue!"

 

"Then what _is_  the issue?!"

 

"Are you kidding m-- no. You know what? Nevermind. Whatever, you win," Tom started to crawl out of his bed, sick of Tord's shenanigans, his ideas, his bullshit, and especially his existence. He didn't have the energy for this. "Take your fucking time, I'm g--"

 

Tom was dragged back into bed by the wrist, crash-landing between Tord's legs which wrapped themselves around Tom's waist to lock him in place. Before he even got to process what was going on, he could feel the hard press of a gun's barrel against his back.

 

"Watch the screen, Thomas."

 

Tom understood the situation. Tord most likely didn't even want him to watch some silly hentai all that much. He just wanted Tom to do as he was told. It was never about who did what and always about who was in charge. He didn't want Tom to watch to appreciate art, or whatever. He wanted Tom to watch because he _said_ so. A psychopath, yeah and it made Tom indignant. But he was also a psychopath with a gun, so Tom learned to pick his battles.

 

"Fine," he ground out, and made himself as comfortable as someone with a loaded gun pointed to him could be. When it was obvious Tom wasn't going to bolt, Tord unwrapped his legs and set them down, bracketing Tom still. He snaked a hand across Tom's abdomen instead, just in case the Brit did try to run. He leaned forwards and rested his chin against a blue clad shoulder, using the gun to press the spacebar.

 

For a good 15 minutes, they watched in uncomfortable silence, Tom's face in a permanent form of Disgust. Then he felt the head on his shoulder shift and breath that smelt of nicotine against his ear, "The expressions are good, no?" The way it was said did things to Tom that he'd really rather not look into, so instead he cleared his throat and responded.

 

"No, they're gross."

 

"What? She looks hot!"

 

"No, she looks like she's having a seizure," he explained. "She's a  _cartoon_ , commie. Just a bunch of moving lines."

 

Tord let the cartoon comment slip this time and asked, "Is that it then?" before he shut the laptop and walked over to his own bed. Oh fuck, what  _now_? Frustrated, Tom dragged a hand down his face and groaned. Why was Tord being so persistant? He never cared whether or not people approved of his kinks!

 

Tom was forced to look back at the damned communist when he heard something slam into a nightstand. And oh.

 

It was a very, very large silicone dick. On Tord's nightstand.

 

At a loss for words, Tom simply said, "It's purple." because it was. It was very purple.

 

"Yes," Tord agreed, side-eyeing the dick in his hand. "It is. And it's going to help me demonstrate the charm of an ahegao."

 

Tom had no fucking idea what an ahegao was but he didn't want to find out. Then he saw Tord fumbling with his own belt and oh holy shit this was happening wasn't it.

 

"You're joking."

 

"Nope." A clink.

 

"You're insane."

 

"A little." The sound of a zipper.

 

Holy shit.

 

* * *

 

 

And that pretty much brings us here, where Tord was done practically fisting himself for a good half an hour and he was riding a plastic, and very purple dick like he was made for it while Tom was left gaping silently, brain still trying to catch up to what the heck was going on.

 

A small whimper made him lock his vision onto Tord's face and to be quite honest, he was expecting something... fake. Something so obviously plastic it was impossible to be turned on about. He expected a two dollar whore.

 

Tord looked like art. His eyes were fluttered shut, lip caught between uneven teeth, face twisted in concentration as he tried to reach his own satisfaction. Mesmerising, in a sense.

 

Fucked up in another.


	2. Debauched (Alternatively: What You're All Here for Probably)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here it is, the nasties.

Tord kept going at it, clearly not beating around the bush as he bounced on that silicone cock as if the rest of the world had disappeared. As if Tom wasn't just right there watching him. As if Tom wasn't painfully hard just from the sight.

He had no idea how it happened. He'd rarely ever gotten hard absolutely without contact. Was it because of how fucked up the situation was? Was it because there was a definite stark contrast between the usual Tord-- always so commanding and in control-- and the Tord now that was lost in his own chase for pleasure?

A particularly loud moan snapped Tom out of his reverie, and his vision refocused on the Norwegian's expression. His eyes were open this time, though half-lidded. But that didn't dim the intensity behind his stare, boring holes into the poor lad across from him, now gulping and shifting nervously in his discomfort. It became increasingly hard to look away from the guy then. His mouth was open with only pants and occasional broken moans gracing past his lips, but Tom could almost hear the command: "Keep looking. Don't you dare look away, Tom. Don't you fucking dare look away, Thomas. Tom. Tom--"

_"Tom…"_

It took a hot second for Tom to realise that was actually spoken. The reason why he figured it out was because it was said in a tone completely unfamiliar to him. It almost seemed meek, desperate. He tried to hum in askance but his throat was so dry that the air just passed through it, letting out a soft broken whistling sound. He cleared his throat before trying again.

"Tom, I need..." He heard the undeniably frantic tone in Tord's voice, and oh God Tom realised he would do anything-- _anything_ \-- Tord asked of him if he'd just used that tone all the time.

Tord was struggling with his pace, thighs trembling and head dropped to rest his chin against his head. The arm behind him was obviously straining but he was still stubbornly moving and Tom had just had enough of this. He pushed himself off of his sheets and crossed the tiny distance between his bed and the other. At the sound of footsteps, Tord looked up blearily, a little cross-eyed and confused. He didn't have much time to dwell on it, however, as soon he was getting shoved back into his bed.

Tom didn't think this through because a loud crack and something in Norwegian was hissed out as Tord was folded uncomfortably backwards and his head had hit against the concrete wall. "You fucking..." Tord started, and Tom had enough sense to shift back to let the other man unfold his legs. They shuffled around a bit until they were finally positioned properly on the bed, with Tord's head sinking into his pillow, face flushed and sweating and so, so frustrated. Tom had a good view from where he loomed over the guy. He stayed still like that, and after a bit Tord started getting uncomfortable, squirming restlessly. He shot the Brit above him a glare, but all he got in return was an amused smirk.

Oh no, he _knew_ Thomas was the type to play games first.

"I think good boys should ask for what they want," he said and Tord tried not to roll his eyes. He started squirming a bit more, hopeful to just get on with it but his partner was being a jerk.

"Tom, can we not-" he started, but got cut off by the feeling of the dildo lodged up his ass being slowly dragged out. He let out a long, pathetic whine but that did nothing to deter the man above him.

"That doesn't sound right." A slow drag.

"Thomas." Pause.

"Come on, you can do it." It was slowly being pushed back in.

"Faen..." Out.

"Hmmm?" In.

Tord held on for another impressive five seconds before the tip of the dildo brushed against his prostate and he broke. Immediately, he started sputtering, clawing at Tom's sleeves and fucking himself against the plastic faster than the pace Tom was going. "Fine, fuck. Fine, _please_! Please, please please please pl--" He was cut off by a growl and the feeling of chapped lips being pressed against his. It was pretty messy, with Tom trying to set the pace but Tord was still mumbling incoherent nonsense against the slide of tongue against teeth.

Tom was so, _so_ turned on. He pulled off, wiping the drool off his chin with his unoccupied hand while Tord was still fucking himself on the toy under him. Tom had to take off his offending pair of trousers before he crawled down, halting the dildo momentarily to properly position himself between Tord's thighs. He unceremoniously then, at the same time he started pistoning the toy back in, took Tord's entire length into his mouth.

"Ah- Godfu--what the _fuck_?!" The Norwegian yelled, convulsing under Tom's palm. He started flailing, kicking, arms grasping desperately at whatever they could reach, eventually settling in his own soft caramel locks and just _pulled_ as his noises became louder, and louder, and--

A particularly wild cry was all Tom had as a warning before warmth started filling his mouth and it was a little gross but the tip was already at the back of his throat so all he had to do was try not to suffocate as he swallowed.

The hand on the dildo stopped, and after pulling off, Tom dived back in to tongue against the oversensitive head. The man below him jerked wildly, hands coming down to press against Tom's head as his breathing morphed to whines at the onslaught of sensations. Despite all this, not once did he ask Tom to stop.

Eventually, though, Tom did pull off to let the poor guy catch his breath. He sat back up on his knees, sitting down against his calves and pulled the dildo out before he relaxed to take in the sight before him.

It was hard to admit, but Tord was beautiful. His face was almost as red as the hoodie he still had on, clearly not doing much for his overheating. His hair was completely dishevelled from his earlier tugging, his signature "horns" abolished in favour of sticking everywhere in every direction. His mouth was still hanging open and drool was flowing out of a corner. He was pretty sure that his eyes were glistening with unfallen tears, too. A little lost-looking, as he didn't seem to be focusing on anything.

That was it. The very essence of the word: **Debauched**.

Tom was a little breathless, but he still kicked his body to move so that he could peel the thick hoodie off of the man below him. The fabric radiated heat, and Tord looked a lot calmer once he was out of it. His eyes were closed and for a second he looked like he was about to doze off right there and then. That wouldn't do.

Tom raised a hand up to lightly press against the bandaid on Tord's jaw. He kept adding pressure to it until the Norski winced and slapped the offending finger away, opening his eyes to glare at Tom, though it wasn't nearly as effective as his usual scowls. Tom couldn't help it, he dove down for a quick peck and the expression melted away when he pulled off.

"We're not done yet," he informed the guy below him. It wasn't even a question. Just a statement.

"You're not serious?" Tord muttered a little exasperatedly, and Tom noted how much thicker his accent was. The r's were harder and everything was just more guttural in general.

"Come on, you went through all the trouble," Tom cooed, trailing his hands over both of Tord's thighs, stroking them endearingly. Endearing. He was being endearing to Tord fucking Larsøn. The world ended and Tom completely missed it. "'Sides, you got thorough prep just now and I'm ready to go?" He grinded his dick against Tord's crotch, trying convince him by peppering soothing kisses all across his chest and running his hands over any plane of skin he could reach.

Not long after, he could hear resignment in Tord's sigh and a small, "Fine," and Tom indulged himself to a thankful smile. If anything, Tord just pouted at that, claiming, "but you owe me bacon later."

"What?" Tom asked in faux offense, leaning over to the nightstand to get a condom. Of course the Norski had plenty. He didn't even bother checking the size as he worked the packaging off and rolled it onto his dick. "You're getting the best lay of your life and you want a favour out of it too?"

"Don't oversell yourself."

"Are you incapable of not being such a nonce whenever you don't have a dick up your arse?" Tom scoffed, applying lube to his cock and lathered some over Tord's already messy hole. For safe measures. Tord looked a bit blank at first, then scowled.

"I told you not to use confusing sentence structures, it's a hassle to decipher," he complained as his right leg was hoisted up to rest on Tom's shoulder. Tord didn't bother hinting that he had no idea what "nonce" meant. It was definitely an insult but he'd look it up later. The frustratingly very English man simply laughed.

"How about we just stop talking altogether?"

And then he was pushing in to that tight, searing heat and oh fuck, did they stop talking. He met little to no resistance, and even glancing down he could see Tordickus Jr. getting very very interested in what was happening.

Actual Tord was whimpering, and before long he started moving on his own accord, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable burning need for friction. Tom was too tired to be playing games then that he started setting a long, hard pace at first. Honestly he wanted to get Tord to beg again. Maybe even cry, if he was lucky. But he'd vastly overestimated his own self control and underestimated how fucking good Tord felt around him. Maybe another time. Would there be another time?

"Agh, fuck!" A loud moan cut through Tom's consciousness and he refocused on the task at hand. Tord was so, so much louder this time. Not even for a second did his voice come any lower than groaning, and at his loudest he was borderline screaming. Tom was getting a bit worried their housemates were going to realise that the noises coming from their room were a bit different from Tord's usual hentai.

"Holy shit, can't you tune it down? How'd you manage to jack off quietly this whole time but scream like a whore with a cock in you?" Tom muttered, but didn't slow down his pace. Surprisingly, Tord actually whimpered at that, tossing his head to the side and started sobbing.

Interesting.

"Oh what the heck, you like that? Fuckin' gross," Tom commented, and received a broken cry. He himself was starting to get a little more hot under the collar at the reaction. It was like a surge of power, and goosebumps laid in its wake all across his body. He loved it. He'd never really talked dirty before though let alone degrading someone. He'd do a bit more research on that later. For now, he'd settle with...

Laughing. He laughed at Tord, mocking him further with accurate thrusts against his prostate. "Oh, this is gold! Look at you! You like it, do you? When you're being put in your Goddamn place," a precisely harsh thrust had Tord yelling. His eyes were screwed shut in ecstacy and he looked genuinely in the verge of tears.

"You like to prance around in your little military getup, pull guns on people but really you're just a cockslut, aren't you?" Tom leaned in, trailing his teeth against Tord's neck, whispering filthy words against his jaw as a galaxy of marks made home on sun-kissed skin. Tom was about to say more before out of nowhere, Tord started seizing up, back bowing into a beautiful arch and he clawed at Tom's arms hard enough to bruise. His jaw unhinged in a silent scream and he came across the both of them in an impressive amount for the second time that day.

The sight of Tord, coming undone for the second time that day, face flushed and sweaty, tongue rolled out and eyes rolled back looked similar to that of his hentai babes, but so, so different. This was- fuck, dare he say this was _art_.

But what really did Tom good was the steady stream of tears marking Tord's red cheeks. That was it. With a final few desperate thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt and gave the man under him a harsh bite on the shoulder, just as a final "Fuck you," and came.

Tord was still whimpering even after Tom rode out his own orgasm. He was so fucking tired afterwards. He still managed to sluggishly clean up a little, throwing the soiled condom away and wiping off gross bodily fluids from Tord. His blue hoodie was a bit fucked and so were Tord's sheets, but he'd handle that later.

The Norwegian was pliant and quiet the whole time, and Tom was starting to get a bit worried if he broke him. Tom threw off his soiled hoodie and dug his arms under Tord before lifting the guy up bridal style. He had a lot of fucking muscle mass and was an inch taller than Tom, but their room was small so he didn't really need to cross a very long distance before he threw Tord onto his own bed and crawled in.

Right before he managed to fall asleep, lulled in by the calmingly familiar scent of gunpowder and spice, his eyes snapped open at a sudden realisation; why Tord was so uncharacteristically vehement to validate his own kinks.

"Did you plan this?"

Tord stiffened under him. The hand Tom didn't notice was stroking his hair stopped too.

Tom pushed himself up onto his arms, staring bewilderedly at Asshole Supreme.

Mr. Supreme stared, shocked for a good 3 seconds before letting out a weak "aha?" and grimaced.

And then the beds were shaking for a different reason that night, and Tord was yelling for a different reason too. Tom joined him this time. And it was chaotic, and spiteful and a little traumatic for Edd who was awake doodling that night, but it felt okay. Tom felt okay and Tord felt a little less okay because his face was on the floor but he was smiling, and it was all...

"Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows…"

"SHUT _UP_ THOMAS."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this. As usual you can find me on my tumblees (flugfbop.tumblr.com) or on Instagram by the same name as my tumblr!
> 
> Feel free to leave (constructive) criticism whether on my writing or characterisation or maybe even suggestions!!! I love all of u.  
> Or you can scream and I can scream back, that is also good.


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